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Monday, June 20, 2011

Never Stop Writing.


I wasn’t expecting much when I walked into our most beloved Obs bar, The Armchair, one rainy Friday night. I was pleased to see our favorite bartenders, bouncer and Armchair regular, Taxi Mark. I decided to be anti-social and enjoy some solitude by sitting at the bar alone, while the rest of the crew was outside sitting around the fire pit.
Staring blankly at the muted television, I began to talk to Taxi Mark. Now, this legend is not only loud, outgoing and a complete character, he also has many friends. He was sitting next to the quiet, humble and unbelievably interesting, Mike. Mike was smoking cigarettes, alternately drinking red wine and Black Labels, and keeping to himself. Taxi Mark asked me again what I was studying in school and I cautiously said, “journalism.” Taxi Mark laughed and said, “Well, well.” Mike turned his attention to me and said, “Damn it, not another one.” I asked him why and he began to elaborate that three of his four sons were journalists.
            I gasped a big “I know. You have to understand, I have planned to do it all my life.” I thought I knew why he let out a sarcastic “not another one,” so I blindly ventured into a three-hour-long conversation with a living legend.
            Mike has dark gray hair that sits stylistically and happily atop his very wise head. He has a lighter gray beard that would get in the way while he sipped his ride wine. He lit a cigarette and began to ask me about music, my favorite subject.
            “Have you ever listened to Bob Dylan?” Mike asked me. I smiled ecstatically and replied with, “Of course.” Mike told me that first and foremost Dylan was a poet. Mike did not adjust the volume of his voice, regardless that the music and crowd volumes were getting louder. I had to listen carefully and while he was describing the impact one of Dylan’s lyrics had on his life, a tear slid down his cheek.
            We began to talk about his generation, the summer of ’69 generation. He told me that he was in his sophomore year at the university when Woodstock was happening and how he would have given anything to be apart of that. Music talk faded to more serious talk. Mike was the leader of a youth union during the apartheid. One of his best friends, Steve Biko, his fellow student leader, founded the Black Consciousness Movement. Biko was murdered in police custody and has been seen as a martyr of the anti-apartheid movement. “He was one of my best friends, it was horrible.” I knew that I had to be talking to someone great, but he would never tell me that he was something great. I dove in a little deeper.
            “I was sitting down on the ground leading peaceful protest and my worst enemy, Colonel Trey Marshall, came up to me his hand shaking with a gun pointed straight for my head. That was the scariest moment of my life.”
            Mike went on to say that if he saw that man lying on the ground dying of a heart attack, he would not help him. He would not kill him, but he would help him.
I asked, “Did you listen to your music to escape?” Mike elaborated that growing up he was very fortunate to have parents that supported his ideas and music interests and did not suppress his life, while the government did. He listened to Dylan, and still does to escape and to reflect on the past. He told me that he does not go a day without listening to Dylan. He went on to tell me that he went to school to be a minister and studied theology, studied philosophy, is a poet and an atheist. Mike mentioned that his 3 greatest idols were Nelson Mandela, Desmond Tutu and Bob Dylan.
The 60-year-old Mike excused himself and Taxi Mark leaned in and childishly whispered, “Do you realize you have been talking to the editor of the Cape Times all night?”
Mike returned and I let said, "Okay sir, your cover is blown." He nodded and I said, “Please forgive me, but what should I do next? I am 22 and confused.” He instructed me to travel the world and put it aside for a moment. Taxi Mark translated and said, “I know what Mike means is that you need to soak life up first and find your own voice before someone shapes and molds your writing.”
I asked Mike one last question, “What should I be doing right now?” He sat down his red wine, took a break from his cigarette and quietly said, “Never stop writing.”


             



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